


King to a God

by lillyluna



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationship, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillyluna/pseuds/lillyluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shit just comes so easy for Ryan. It makes Michael jealous</p>
            </blockquote>





	King to a God

_Human being to the mob_

Ryan doesn’t have the same obligations.

No one gives him shit about being a role model or about making good life choices; Ryan is so carefree it makes Michael jealous.

The lights in the Las Vegas nightclub are dim; strobe lights illuminate the crowd. The VIP area is raised off the ground right next to the DJ and people in the crowd press forward towards them.

_What’s a mob to a king?_

Ryan clutches the neck of a magnum of champagne in one hand; his other arm is slung around Cullen’s shoulders. He takes a swig of champagne and then leans forward against the railing and pours some into the mouth of a girl waiting eagerly below. He stands back and looks at the crowd like a fucking king observing his people.

Ryan beckons a security guard and wordlessly points to the girl. A few moments later she’s being escorted up to the VIP platform and he has the arm that was around Cullen looped around her waist. He takes another drink of champagne and some spills down his chin; the girl licks it up. They both laugh. Other girls reach up to him from the dance floor.

This is Ryan’s party; this is his mob, tonight he’s their king.

_What’s a king to a god?_

If Ryan’s London performance has earned him a kingdom then Michael’s slightly drunk mind decides that he’s surely a God.

Michael’s sitting back on a couch close to the wall, away from the strobe lights; he’s in retirement, he shouldn’t care if people see him partying but he does. The hotel manager had snuck him into the club through the underground tunnels used for laundry, and he had flown in on a jet. No one really knows he’s there.

He had never been on the guest list for this party but Ryan had texted that morning begging him to come _(No gf jeah!1)_ and Michael had made his way over like it was nothing. Like it was driving down the street instead of flying last minute into Las Vegas.

He feels out of place and it makes him even more jealous of Ryan who looks just as home dancing with bottles of champagne and grinding on girls as he does in a pool.

Ryan’s partying dressed like some kind of Team America superhero. The lights catch the diamonds in his grill every time he grins- which is fucking constantly- and it’s blinding.

Shit just comes so easy to Ryan.

_What’s a god to a non-believer?  
Who don’t believe in anything?_

It becomes increasingly crystal fucking clear to Michael that despite all of his text message begging, Ryan has no intentions of partying with him. It becomes obvious that Ryan’s made him come for one reason: to watch.

Ryan’s spent his entire Olympic career in Michael’s shadow and tonight he seems determined to eclipse him. It doesn’t matter who Michael is, how much gold he could have hanging around his neck or how he was able to get a fucking jet to fly him out to Vegas with a half hour notice because Ryan doesn’t give a fuck right now. It pisses Michael the fuck off.

He downs the rest of his drink and refills his glass without adding mix, he pounds it back and this time he lets a girl walking by pour him another one; he has more medals than anyone else, why should he pour his own drinks?

Why should he care that Ryan Lochte isn’t paying attention to him?

_Coke on her black skin made a stripe like a zebra  
I call that jungle fever_

The VIP section starts to get sloppy around the time someone pulls out a bag of coke and pushes bottles of mix aside to cut lines on the low table. It’s more like a movie than real life. But Ryan Lochte would make sure his American Hero Welcome Home Birthday Party could put a rap video to shame.

Someone offers Michael a line and he gives it to the girl sitting next to him instead, Ryan’s gotten him to do a lot of dumb shit over the years but snorting cocaine will not be one of them.

The red haired member of the British Royal Family doesn’t turn his line away. Ryan catches him doing it and cheers him on from five feet away: the fucking King giving props to an actual Prince.

This isn’t real life, Michael thinks, there’s just no way.

_You will not control the threesome  
Just roll the weed up until I get me some_

Weed usually mellows him out but tonight it just makes him more on edge. He hopes it isn’t laced with something but he knows that it’s not about the weed; his mind is laced with fucking Ryan.

There’s a girl sitting on his lap (His girlfriend’s already going to be pissed at him for flying to Vegas for Ryan so what’s the point of behaving) and she leans over him to talk to her friends and then there are two more girls on his lap and they’re all kissing and they pull him in for a bit. The kiss is sloppy and wet and someone’s wearing strawberry lip-gloss but he pulls away to keep an eye on Ryan.

For the first time of the entire fucking night (and it’s two o’clock in the fucking morning) they make eye contact. Ryan takes the shot Cullen is handing out to him and walks over.

“Hey baby.” Ryan’s voice is slurred but whatever Michael will take it. “I fucking love your dress jeah!” Ryan isn’t talking to him.

“Lochte.”

“Come dance with me, I pick you.” Ryan intertwines his fingers in the blonde hair of the girl in the gold dress and pulls her up and away from Michael’s lap. “Forget Phelps baby, this is my night. You can be like my medal.”

The blonde girl never looks back. She takes the joint with her and passes it to Ryan who takes a hit and sloppily shotguns the smoke into her mouth.

Kings take their orders from Gods, Michael fumes, not the other way around.

  _We formed a new religion  
No sins as long as there’s permission’_

Ryan’s hands hitch the girl’s dress all the way up over her hips and his hands are grabbing her ass as he grinds into her while they dance. The girl has already left a bruise on Ryan’s neck.

Ryan pushes her up against the railing and one of her hand slides under his shirt. He whispers something in her ear and then starts to kiss his way down her neck while his hands brush up her sides to grab her breasts. Her hand trails down his chest and she slips a few fingers below the waistband of his pants.

Michael’s jealous. He hasn’t brought his girlfriend and Ryan Lochte owes him some fucking attention or at the very least has to ask if he can fuck someone else, because that’s their deal or it was their deal. He’s not so sure anymore.

_And deception is the only felony  
_

Ryan’s penthouse suite offers even less privacy than the club. Everything is glass and glossy white and the brightest fucking lights illuminate everything. It’s impossible to talk to Ryan alone because he’s still holding court.

The girl in the gold dress is still on Ryan’s arm but he pulls away from her whenever someone takes a picture. He seems to have picked up at least one bullet point from eight years of media training.

The girl whispers to Ryan as soon as they’re alone. Ryan licks his lips and points her towards one of the bedrooms.

“So, my sorority sister was saying that even if you were to-“ There’s a girl talking to Michael and he can’t even remember what their conversation is about and he’s pretty sure he never asked for her name. He just knows that Ryan’s gone to fuck the gold dress girl.

“Want to fuck?” He asks her, his plan is a hundredth of a second old. Operation cock block Ryan, operation fuck him over. It’s still a working title.

“Sure.” She becomes his accomplice.

“This way.” He drags her to the room he’s just seen Ryan disappear into.

“Shit, sorry bro- didn’t know this was taken“ Michael bursts into the room loudly.

“This room’s fucking taken” Ryan yells over his shoulder, using his body to shield the naked girl, “Seriously, you can leave.”

Ryan’s tone of voice scares off Michael’s sorority girl.

“Your friends are looking for you.” Michael ignores him and talks to the gold dress girl, “They said they were leaving.”

“Bitches.” The girl yells out, “I can’t fucking believe this.” She slips out from under Ryan and reaches for her clothes, “Call me?”

“I’m really busy…” Ryan starts but it sounds half assed.

“Douchebag.” The girl pulls her dress over her head and walks out holding her heels.

 

_So never fuck nobody wit’out tellin’ me_

“Fucking asshole.” Ryan gets off the bed and readjusts himself.

“You didn’t really want to fuck her.” Michael steps in front of the door.

“Fuck you...I did...” Ryan tries to get around Michael to leave

“Not without telling me” Michael roughly pushes Ryan against the wall.

“Shit.” Ryan’s drunk and not too steady on his feet; he hits the wall hard “Chill”

“Stop.” Michael holds Ryan’s American flag scarf

“You mad bro?” Ryan grins like he’s really pleased with himself.

“Who else have you been fucking without telling me?”

“You have a girlfriend, it’s off. We haven’t hooked up in like months. We’re over dude.”

“No!” Michael pushes Ryan against the wall again because he hates losing and while losing at swimming is one thing, losing at Ryan is another.

“Don’t push me again bro.” Ryan’s voice is angrier

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael grabs hold of Ryan’s face, their eyes lock and he almost kisses him. Instead he shoves Ryan’s head roughly to the side, “You broke our fucking rules.”

Ryan reaches up to rub his own neck but he doesn’t make eye contact again.

“Go back to your fucking mob.” Michael takes a step back, “Just remember who you’re fucking tonight, I’ll find you later.”

_Sunglasses and Advil  
Last night was mad real_

“Which one’s your room?” Michael finds Ryan as the sun starts to rise. Ryan’s lost his shirt and his pants are soaked from jumping into the pool fully clothed, he leaves puddles everywhere.

“Back there.” He reaches out to steady himself on a wall, “Like, I’m gonna pass out fuck. Fucking champagne.”

“No you’re not.” Michael grabs a water bottle from an ice bucket, “drink it.” He shoves it into Ryan’s chest.

“Chill guy.” Ryan complains but he lets Michael lead him away from the party.

_Sun comin’ up, 5 a.m._

The suite’s master bedroom has even more floor to ceiling windows. The sun rising over the strip is blinding and Ryan reaches to lower the blinds, Michael hits his hand away from the switch.

“No, leave them open. I want to fuck you against the window. So the whole fucking strip can see.”

_Human beings in a mob_

“No, fucking owe me.” Ryan tries as he stumbles around the room, “I coulda fucked any girl tonight.” He gestures to the still full hotel suite. “My party.”

_What’s a mob to a king_

“None of them fucking matter.” Michael closes and locks the door behind them, “I do. You brought me here.”

“We’re fucking over.” Ryan says, “You mean shit.”

_What’s a king to a god?_

“Take your clothes off.” Michael orders.

Ryan stands defiant with his arms crossed considering the command.

“Take your fucking clothes off.”

Ryan peels off his soaking wet pants and throws them carelessly behind him. Once he’s totally naked he grabs himself and gives his dick a few lazy strokes.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself.” Michael leans against the windows, feeling the sun on his back. “Suck me off.”

Ryan bites his lip and the sun catches the diamonds in his grill.

“Take your grill off, I don’t need your diamonds scratching up my dick.” He undoes his own pants as he talks.

“Fuck you man.” Ryan pops the grill out of his mouth and puts it down on a coffee table.

“Watch yourself.”

“See” Ryan flashes the fakest smile Michael’s ever seen, “grill gone.” He slips his hand behind Michael’s neck and moves to kiss him.

“I don’t want to kiss you.” Michael turns his head away, “I don’t know where your  
mouth’s been.” He pushes Ryan down, “Suck me off.”

 

_What’s a god to a non-believer?_

“Fuck.” Michael groans and he pushes himself further into Ryan’s mouth before pulling out slow, giving Ryan time to suck on his head and run his tongue over the slit before he pushes back in. “Jerk yourself off while I fuck your mouth.”

Both of Ryan’s hands stay on Michael’s hips.

“Jerk yourself off.” Mike tells him again and he shoves back into Ryan’s mouth just that much harder to remind him who’s in charge.

Ryan gags and flips him off with both hands.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it, look how fucking hard you are.” Michael slaps the back of Ryan’s head. “How fucking hard you are for me.”

Ryan bares his teeth and scrapes them up Michael’s shaft; it’s too rough to be playful; it fucking hurts.

“Fucker!” Michael pulls out of his mouth and slaps him again.

Ryan’s off his knees and his hand is around Michael’s throat he pushes him against the window. He’s squinting against the sun, “Hit me one more time motherfucker c’mon try it.” He says threateningly.

“Let me go Ryan.” Michael pushes one hand against Ryan’s chest, more firm than rough and Ryan takes a stumbling step back.

“I’ll fuck you up. What the fuck is this shit.” “That’s like…” He thinks “A lot of times tonight. I’m not your bitch.” He sways on the spot, too drunk to stay straight,

“You’re fucking pissing me off.”

“Then use fucking words bro, shit.” Ryan’s hand reaches up to rub the spot Michael slapped. “You fucking hit me”

“You ignored me all fucking night asshole.”

“You chilled in a fucking corner by yourself all night.”

“When you invited me I thought-“

“Like I’m too drunk for this shiz.” Ryan’s eyes are bleary but they definitely look hurt. “You can get the fuck out, jeah?”

“Not leaving Ry.” The three feet of space between them feels huge.

“Say sorry.”

“I don’t even know… I’m sorry babe” Michael takes a step forward; there’s definitely a bruise from his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. He reaches for it and Ryan doesn’t flinch away. “Shit, what the fuck was I doing… I just wanted you.”

“Better.”

Who don’t believe in anything?

They haven’t had sex in months; Ryan’s tighter than he remembers and Michael pushes in too fast and too deep.

“Shit, slow, stop.” Ryan cries out and he thrusts his hips forward a little, pulling away. Michael drops the arm he had around Ryan’s waist, letting him move.

“Sorry babe.” He kisses Ryan’s shoulder and wraps a hand around Ryan’s dick. He pumps it slow and long and eases out of Ryan another inch, “You start to move.”

He keeps jacking Ryan off, rubbing the head with his thumb, reaching down to play with his ball, “Fuck my fist baby.” He growls in Ryan’s ear.

Ryan jerks his hips forward hard but he’s more careful bringing them back, not moving against Michael for the first few strokes. Slowly he starts easing back against him, letting Michael go deeper. The rhythm is measured and careful.

“Good.” Michael whispers and he makes his fist tighter around Ryan, rewarding him,

“Fuck.” Ryan moans, “God.”

_What’s a king to a god?_

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics taken from "No Church in the Wild" off Watch The Throne


End file.
